Brussels is really good at explaining industries. Reports packed with evidence. Events with brilliant speakers. Policymakers, CEOs, experts, researchers, all in one room discussing Europe's biggest challenges. That's what we do well here. But after enough of those events, I started wondering. A few months later, what actually stays with people? The graph showing investment growth? The pretty stat about European jobs? The panel discussion where a lot of audience members were on their phone multi-tasking? Or is it the story about the engineer trying to build Europe's AI infrastructure? The scientist who's spent ten years developing a new therapy? The cybersecurity expert protecting critical systems every single day?

There is a strange phenomenon that happens in many organisations. The event goes well. The room is full. The speakers are excellent. The CEO is happy. Stakeholders leave feeling energised. The LinkedIn posts perform well. The feedback forms are positive. Everyone agrees the event was a success. Fast forward six months to performance review season. Suddenly, nobody remembers what it took to get there.

With all the conversations about AI-generated content and "AI slop," it feels like an opportune moment to talk about creativity. Yet in Brussels, many of us spend our days trying to influence policymakers, stakeholders, and decision-makers, while often shying away from creative approaches ourselves. The reasons are familiar.

You take on a management role thinking: I’ll do this properly. You’ll support your team. You’ll share context. You’ll make the work clearer, lighter, more workable. Ypu’ll stand up for your team. That’s the intention. And then you run into someone who keeps things very close. Oh dear.

There’s a sentence you don’t hear often enough in Brussels: “People management is not for me.” And yet, when someone says it, honestly, without shame, without apology, it’s one of the most attractive, responsible, and frankly powerful things you can hear in a workplace. Because in this city, we’ve built a quiet assumption: If you’re good at your job, you should lead people.

In our A Better Brussels work, we often say this line: People management is not a mandate. It’s a choice. And almost every time, the reaction is the same. Nods. A few relieved smiles.
Sometimes a visible exhale. Then, usually after a pause, someone asks the quieter question: “Okay… but if people management isn’t my path for progression… then what?”

Here’s the thing about the phrase “It’s not personal, it’s just business” — every time I hear it, especially in Brussels, a small alarm goes off in my psychologist brain. Because Brussels has its own local version of this sentence. A softer, more diplomatic, more institutional shrug: “This is just how things work in Brussels.”

Walk into an organisation, a tech company, an NGO, a communications consultancy, and you’ll find a familiar pattern. People become bosses (not leaders) because they excelled at something else, not because they were ever taught how to lead.

Yesterday, India’s women’s cricket team won the World Cup. Maybe not Brussels’ biggest story, but for Indians everywhere it was everything—tears, disbelief, and the look that says: we belong. After years of being sidelined as “lucky to be here,” this was the release of years spent proving they belonged.

If you’ve ever been stuck in a toxic workplace, you know how heavy it gets: Every meeting feels like a minefield. Every email makes your stomach knot. Every week leaves you more drained than the last. And then someone says: “That’s just how things work in Brussels. OR Just stand up for yourself. Just leave. Just be brave.” If only it were that simple.

If you’ve ever been scapegoated in your workplace, you know how disorienting it is. You were the one naming the dysfunction. The one asking the hard questions. The one raising red flags when no one else dared. Because instead of being seen as someone bringing true competence, someone offering longer-term solutions to a struggling industry or cause, you were cast as the problem. Subtly sidelined. Then openly blamed. Eventually pushed out.

You’ve just seen a post on LinkedIn by someone who made your life hell at work. But there they are, waxing poetic about empathy, values, and servant leadership. You’re not imagining it: the disconnect is real, and it’s disorienting, especially in Brussels and even beyond. So this is for anyone who's seen a post like that and thought, “Am I losing it, or is this person completely rewriting history?” Here’s how to respond, or not, in ways that protect your integrity, your sanity, and your voice.

When you’re early in your career, especially in roles that involve visibility, communication, and collaboration, it’s natural to wonder, “What will people think?" "Am I doing enough?" "Am I good enough?"

But here’s a truth that’s not always said out loud: most of the noise isn’t about you. And even when it feels like it is, your job is not to carry it. Your job is to focus on the work. And let your work speak.

The U.S. executive order rolling back D&I efforts has triggered real fear for many. I’ve seen the concern, the quiet panic: “What does this mean for the work we’ve been doing? Does this set us back by decades? Are we really going to erase the words ‘diversity and inclusion’ from company strategies?”
Or straight up: “What nonsense is this?!”

Last week, my teenage daughter reflected on the strike in Belgium and casually said, “Oh, these politicians really don’t know what they’re doing or what they’re talking about.”

It got me thinking.

Aren’t so many of us just like her—still learning, still figuring it out how to be better bosses, in all its glory and messiness?

Brussels is full of smart, ambitious people trying to make a difference, and that’s exactly what makes this city exciting—and exhausting. Some days, it feels like you’re swimming against the tide: never-ending deadlines, impossible expectations, feedback that stings. But is your workplace truly toxic, or are you just experiencing the growing pains of building your expertise?

If you’ve endured a toxic work environment and are stepping into a new role, first, let me say this: you are brave. Surviving and moving on from such an experience is no small feat. Starting fresh can be both empowering and daunting. Here are some thoughts to help you navigate this transition with empathy for yourself and those around you.

As a growing number of people connect with A Better Brussels, I thought it would be helpful to put into words what guides this initiative. I am always mindful that one initiative cannot fix everything, and I am grateful that others exist.

A few promises I have made to myself.

I got it. You have received the tools that we produced in response to the requests expressed during our listening sessions. But you're having trouble figuring out how to bring up the question, "Am I a toxic boss?! self-assessment” created for self-reflection.

It can be intimidating, particularly in a stressful review meeting. I hear you.

When I began hosting listening sessions, a few voices stood out—people who truly grasped the importance of the issue at hand. Among them was Bryn Watkins, whose determination to shift the burden of change onto perpetrators rather than victims left a lasting impression. During a recent chat, I asked Bryn what makes our policy-making space prone to toxic workplace behaviours. He had this to say.